Under Suspicion. Hannah Alexander
we turn all cell phones off. I’ll call you as soon as—”
“We didn’t hear about it on the scanner.”
“They could have used a private line. I’m not sure yet. I’m checking it out now, but it’s obvious Shona doesn’t want media attention right now.”
“She doesn’t have the liberty to pick and choose when she receives coverage and when she doesn’t,” Wendy snapped.
Geoff gritted his teeth. Careful, Wendy, your antagonism is showing. “You know the hospital won’t allow a crew into the emergency department,” he said. “I’m sure Shona won’t leave her father’s side. On the other hand, there will be lights flashing and police cars lining the street around the MacDonald mansion. What’s going to give us better ratings?”
There was a buzzing silence, then a sharp sigh. “Fine. We already have a crew at the mansion, but I need you there to report. I don’t want to trust Sally with this.”
“Can’t Megan or Emily do it? I need to be with my family right now, Wendy.”
“You have a job to do, Tremaine. I suggest you follow orders if you want to keep your cushy position with all its perks.”
He swallowed a sharp retort. “Think about the ratings. If Megan comes on the screen live from the MacDonald mansion, filling in for Geoff Tremaine, who’s with his wife and father-in-law at the hospital, don’t you think that’s going to catch the attention of viewers?”
“Not as well as Geoff Tremaine himself.”
“But what if your man on the scene is able to get exclusive, timely updates from the source?”
There was another thoughtful pause. Wendy could ride roughshod over everyone when she wanted her way, but she did, on occasion, accept input. “You’re trying to manipulate me.”
He got out of the car, locked it, and started toward the ER entrance, dropping his keys into his right front pocket. “Is it working?”
Another sigh. “Call me when you find something out. Anything.”
“Thanks, Wendy, you’re all heart.”
“No, I just want that exclusive. Make time while you can. The others will catch on soon enough.”
He disconnected and slid the phone into his jacket pocket.
Shona looked up to see a man coming toward her. He wore a navy suit without a tie, and she recognized him as a police detective with whom she had spoken a couple of times in the past.
“Mrs. Tremaine? I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Detective Milt Davis. Are you okay?” He bent toward her, his eyes filled with concern.
She nodded and stood, reaching to shake his hand, allowing her public persona to settle into place even as the hospital crew battled for her father’s life. It felt like a physical weight.
“Of course, Milt. You’ve called me Shona in the past. I hope that hasn’t changed.”
The man was tall and slender, with graying hair around the temples and a lined face that emphasized his fiftysomething years of age combined with long hours on the force. He glanced toward the trauma room, where the staff continued to work over their patient. At least, they were still working.
“Thank you for calling to alert us to your change of location. I hate to interrupt you at a time like this,” he said, “but when you called for help initially, you suggested that this might have been a shooting. If that’s so, we need to follow any leads we can find as quickly as possible.”
“I’ll tell you everything I can,” she said. “Which is very little.”
Milt Davis spoke briefly with a nearby nurse, then led Shona to a conference room down the corridor.
“I’m afraid I’m not focusing very well,” Shona said, seating herself in a vinyl chair at the table.
“That’s understandable.” He took out his recorder and a notebook and asked her permission to tape their conversation. “Tell me what happened.”
“Dad wasn’t very coherent when I found him, and what he said didn’t make sense to me. If he was shot, no one has found a bullet wound. The blood was everywhere, coming from his nose, his teeth, bruising under his skin, but no wound, so that makes it clear to me that he must have been talking about something else.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through this. I know it’s been awful for you, but just because there is no evidence of a shooting doesn’t mean we’re willing to rule out foul play. When did you first notice something was wrong?”
Karah Lee pressed her foot on the imaginary brake on the passenger’s side, gripping the armrest with her right hand. “Fawn, it’s a good four hours to Jefferson City on a clear day. Don’t try to make it in an hour at night.”
“I can do it in less than four. You drive like my great-grandma.”
“She’s probably still alive, too. Which we won’t be if you don’t slow down.”
Instead of arguing as she normally did, Fawn allowed the car to slow enough that they took the next curve on all four wheels. Karah Lee loosened her death grip on the armrest and flexed the cramping muscles of her right foot.
“You doing okay?” Fawn asked.
“I’m trying not to think about things. It would help if I could drive.”
“You’re upset. You don’t need to be distracted with driving when you’re so upset. Older people don’t focus as well as—”
“Don’t start with me, young lady. Thirty-four isn’t old. You’re just looking for an excuse to drive, and I think using my anxiety as an excuse is reprehensible.”
“How can you say that when—”
“Slow down. Don’t forget four-legged creatures reign over this road at night.” Karah Lee felt herself relax in spite of Fawn’s aggressive driving. She suspected that had been Fawn’s purpose from the beginning—that and her natural urge, like every teenager’s, to sit behind the controls of a speeding vehicle.
“We should have packed more.” Fawn made a cursory show of braking and turned onto Highway 76. “What if your father’s in the hospital for a while? All we have is an overnight case.”
Karah Lee swallowed hard, staring ahead at the glow of headlights from a car coming over the next hill. “You should concentrate on driving right now.”
From the corner of her eye she saw Fawn look at her.
“Keep your eyes on the road.”
“I’m watching the road. Haven’t you been praying all these months that Kemper would see the error of his ways and change them?”
Karah Lee winced. That sounded so…fundamentally Christian. Of course, she was fundamentally Christian, but…
“I’ve been told often enough that if I pray for something in God’s will, He gives it to me. Don’t you think it’s God’s will for Kemper to get to know Him?” Fawn dimmed her headlights for the oncoming car, then when the oncoming lights didn’t dim, she muttered, “Jerk! You’re trying to blind me!”
Karah Lee reached for the seat belt and tightened it, once more pressing her imaginary brake. Why didn’t cars come equipped with optional brakes on the passenger’s side, too? They did that on driver’s-ed vehicles.
The car passed without mishap.
“So, where’s your faith?” Fawn asked.
Karah Lee sighed and sat back. It was hard to imagine that her father might have had a change of heart after all these years. She had noticed, however, that his attitude seemed to have undergone a change when he met his son for the first time.
Jerrod